The Legends of Dark Souls
by runicwolf
Summary: Heroes phase in and out through the centuries that pass. Some are forgotten, some are forever immortalized, and others revive through some means. Whether a history long forgotten by the world of Remnant, or fractures of another world being connected through. Regardless, the very fabric wavers, and relations shift and obscure. What is known, is heroes times past are in Remnant.
1. Chapter 1: The Legend never dies

You know, this was originally going to be a series of one-shots demonstrating the ridiculousness and badassery of Dark Souls characters in their prime "memetic badass" versions if put against RWBY, but now I am not so sure about doing that anymore.

Reasoning why one-shots? Because that was the intent and I wasn't planning on extended story-lines, plus, I don't have the dedication to extend the story in a full-blown epic with badassery leaking out like the Niagara Falls

Oh, and some things are deliberately spelled incorrectly.

* * *

In the beginning of all time, the world was vast, gray and barren. Only the massive, stone-like arch-trees grew here, ascending high into the fog that shrouded the world. The rulers of this time were the everlasting dragons whose stone scales granted them immortality and whom were also the wielders of the primordial crystal, a powerful artifact. Little is truly known about this period, only the most ancient of all things were around, and so it was called The Age of the Ancients.

But then, there was fire...

It is a mystery from where Fire came. We only know that it suddenly came to be deep in the hollows of the world, raging brightly and hotly, bringing disparity into the cold and dark world. It is in this First flame, that the four souls of Lords are found. These souls are massively powerful; granting those that hold them god-like power, and thereby dominion in this new world. One soul was found by Nito, the First of the Dead. Another was found by the Witch of Izalith, a powerful sorceress. The third was Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight. And the last came to the being known only as the Furtive Pygmy, his soul weak and flickering unique to the rest. Each individual one was powerful and was determined to carve their place in this new time.

And carve they did...

During the age of fire, with the Lords leading the charge, a war was brought upon the dragons with the intention to usurp their hold over the land, sea, and air. Gwyn used his power to harness the power of lightning. He and his loyal knights hurled massive bolts of lightning, of which peeled away the stone scales of the dragons and rendering them mortal. The Witch of Izalith and her daughters of Chaos used the Catalysts of Izalith, powerful artifacts, and wove massive firestorms, burning the arch-trees, the homes of the dragons. Nito unleashed death and disease upon the dragons, and their bodies crumbled away in the miasma.

Then, there was Seathe the Scaleless, an albino dragon born without the stone scales that granted immortality. The dragon had betrayed his own kind and aided Gwyn in the war. While not immortal, Seathe was still very powerful and very wise, and he coveted the primordial crystal. This "War of Fire" ended when finally the last dragon fell, and the Lords were triumphant. Taking their places as gods in the new world, they ushered in the Age of Fire, an age of prosperity, growth, and succor. The Lords' domain came to be known as Lordran, the land of the Lords, and many human lands began to spring up and flourish around it. For many centuries, or perhaps even millennium, these civilizations grew, and the people loved and feared the Lords, who lived as gods in the city of Anor Londo. All things, however, come to an end.

The coming of darkness had arrived...

For reasons unknown to the Lords, their Souls began to dwindle in power, and the First Flame began to weaken. With the threat of Fire leaving the world, the Lords and the people begin to panic; terrified of returning to the Dark. The Witch of Izalith attempted to recreate the First Flame using powerful Sorcery, but failed miserably and instead released Fires of Chaos. These flames could not be controlled, and the Witch, her followers, and most of her children were consumed in this flame. The flames twisted the Witch and corrupted her completely, becoming the Bed of Chaos, the mother to all demons. Gwyn attempts to aid Izalith in this cataclysm, but it soon becomes apparent that Izalith is lost, and his knights return with armor charred black, an ill omen for what is to come.

Finally conceding to what he sees as a final solution, Gwyn divides his power among his children, and leaves Anor Londo to link his soul to the First Flame, aptly located in the Kiln of the First Flame, hoping to feed it, allowing the Light to last a little longer. Much of his army followed him here, and when the flame rekindled, they were burned to ashes, leaving behind only suits of armor that now wander the world. For defying the coming Dark, Gwyn somehow proliferates the Undead Curse. It is not exactly clear how this curse came to be, but its effects are catastrophic.

Then came the birth of the chosen undead...

When one becomes Undead, they are marked by the accursed Darksign. Their bodies slowly decay, and upon death they are reborn from Bonfires, shrines to the First Flame. Slowly, over many deaths, Undead begin to Hollow, becoming more savage and less intelligent. The people of the world almost universally feared and hated those cursed with undeath, and built an Asylum in the far North, where they sent the Undead to await the end of the world. It is here, a thousand years after Gwyn linked the First Flame, that the Chosen Undead is found, and the events of Dark Souls take place...

Time is convoluted in Lordran with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavers, and relations shift and obscure. In fact, there's no telling how much your world and mine will remain in contact.

Thus, comes the arrival of heroes of the past, present, and future of whom who will be and could be before and after, or what they could possibly be capable of...

...

...

...

One of these heroes was a legend of epic proportions. He who, with every step, made the earth tremble in his presence and wake. Garnered in heavy ancient brass, that which had impeded both unstoppable forces and the testament of time. He who wields the chaos zweihander, a weapon only wielded by the inhumanly strong and the slayer of anything alive, and the already dead, and the grass crest shield, a device with the sole purpose of make its user fight even longer; assuming you last long enough. And he who wears a dreadful mask, that whose empty eyes are the abyss itself and eternal gaze that paralyzes even the mightiest of warriors and gods alike.

He is known as the legend, he who never dies. The father of giants. The unstoppable force. The ruin of many undead...

Or, as some simply known him as...Giant Dad...

...

...

...

Anor Londo, the legendary city of the gods that was once radiant and warm with sunlight, is now entirely dark and cold with the presence of Aldritch, Devourer of gods, inhabiting its hollow shell.

A larger-than-life chosen undead wandered the barren foundation of a once great land. No enemy, no matter how stalwart or aggressive, became wary of his appearance and dared not ignite his ire. Around him were mountains and above him lay the legendary city. In the distance, and atmosphere, he felt the clashing, burning souls of unkindled warriors fighting until the last man stands. Seeing as how these warriors were out of reach up a steep cliff face, the most logical course of action was the climb this small inconvenience.

Giant dad crushed the rock and stone of the cliff in his grip and continued doing so until he go to where he wanted to go.

Up on a small courtyard that overlooked the mountain range, making quite a wonderous view of the cold, dead world, a large congregation of unkindled warriors were sitting on the higher ground and watching two others killing each other for their own amusement.

One of the combatants wielded the Farron greatsword while he donned on the undead legion set while the other carried an immense club and was wearing only the Xanthous crown; Other than that, the latter unkindled was naked. While the naked warrior was faring greatly against the spinning warrior, the sounds of rock breaking broke the sounds of blade and blunt clashing. Most of the spectators didn't think anything of the mysterious sounds until Giant Dad climbed over the fence, broke the wooden structure under his immense weight and strength, and fully clambered over the cliff face and seeing all of the joined surprised faces of every man in the area.

Every unkindled drew their weapon, talisman, magic, and even one who decided to change into the Armor of thorns set. As every member of the fight club prepared to do battle, Giant Dad raised his arms in a mock-hug gesture and boomed out _**"Well, what is it?"**_ The sheer intensity of his voice alone stunned every man on the field. Just as Giant Dad put his arms down, the head of the fight club raised her blade at Giant Dad and commanded,

"Kill him!" Just as every man charged at the legend, a few members popped out at him

 _ **"Hm?"**_ The first one to make contact with him was someone wearing the Eastern Armor Set and carrying the Chaos blade _**"Shiva of the East?"**_

"Who?!" As the man quickly swung his blade, Giant Dad swung his Zweihander in tandem. When Chaos blade made contact with the ancient brass, the cursed blade merely insulted the armor by even making contact with it. When the Chaos Zweihander caught the Eastern Warrior's neck, he was immediately beheaded and his body, as well as his flying head, were burning in black immolating flames right down to even his soul,

 _ **"More like Shiva the deceased!"**_ As the legend's blade struck the ground, fracturing the ground itself with sheer power, several of the fighters swung and thrust their weapons at the large warrior at the same time while another one up on the watching area released a great bow arrow at him. On his second swing, Giant dad had accidentally parried all of his opponents at the same time, even breaking some of their weapons on contact. At the same time, the great arrow was beat back despite it being imbued with the puncturing arrow weapon art.

Every single fighter expressed a face of doom, that rivaling the father's mask just barely. While the fighters around Giant Dad were stunned, one dexterity-built user ran around the group and came up behind Giant Dad. At that moment, upon his third swing, Giant Dad struck down the fighters who dared raise their weapons. All of them, regardless of stamina, health, or endurance, were all cut down in a single slash. They all burned eternally and internally; screaming in agony as they all fell down and praying for the sweet release of death.

Just as the dexterity-based fighter came up behind Giant Dad and thrust his estoc into his backside, the legend himself turned around quickly and caught the estoc in his right hand. The estoc-user shrieked in absolute terror as he released his weapon and he fell back on the cold stone of the yard. The estoc broke in the giant dad's hand while the man himself stared at the whimpering and shaking warrior with his dead, empty eyes; absolutely capturing him in absolute fear _**"What r u, Casul?"**_ The warrior's mouth went agape and could barely raise his arms to defend himself as Giant Dad raised his chaos Zweihander and struck down the dumb-struck warrior.

As another one was felled, the original two warriors who were fighting each other both hit the legend at the same time with their strongest strike. As the two weapon arts collided with the man's back, it only managed to move his body slightly, but not his feet. The monster of a man turned his head back just in time to be shot in the head by the great bow archer in the distance. The archer raised her arms up in victory until a few moments later, that she realized, that the puncturing arrow didn't go through his head. Quickly looking once more, the woman was caught in shock and awe at the great arrow being lodged into the eye hole of the father mask, but the legend didn't seem to afflicted heavily by it.

Giant-dad was displeased as he nonchalantly pulled the great arrow out of his head and broke it in his hands. The two warriors that attacked him, therefore, retreated back with the remaining others who were too afraid to attack him.

Every step he took towards the group, they all responded by moving backwards a few paces. At one point, Giant-Dad raised his arms yet again in a mock-hug and said, _**"Well, what is it?"**_ At that very moment, the majority of the fight club realized that they still carried along the black separation crystal. Most of them pulled their separation crystals and returned back home to not face the beast that planned to devour them. The only ones to remain was the Farron knight and the naked warrior from the beginning.

The Farron knight performed the Legion etiquette gesture while the naked man did a prayer gesture. The Host of the world took a deep breath as she pulled back one more great arrow. Just as the Farron Knight was about to attack, the naked man switched to the sorcerer set and heretic staff. Giant-Dad stood there and allowed the trio to prepare their last fight.

The fight to the death was initiated once Giant-Dad took the first step forward...

...

...

...

The Farron knight's greatsword fell into ruin, the sorcerer's robes seared from unquenchable flames and the archer was on her knees looking at the bleak skies above with eyes filled with lost light. She clenched Pharis's hat in her hands as Giant-Dad walked away from all of them completely unfazed and unharmed. Whether as respect for their foolish bravery, or because of a single whim, they all lived to see another day. Even if all of them could have revived back at the bonfire, just as with any other death, this time the trio basked in the feeling that they did not feel the power of the old fire running through their blood and incinerating them from within.

Out in the distance, even if giant-dad could not be seen from that point, is voice rumbled and made the air itself tremble with the words traveling it being a resounding _**"Git gud"**_ That day, the trio of warriors strived to ' **git gud** ' with the life they were spared by the legend.

Giant-Dad continued to walk on alone. Uninterested in the affairs that the world was and has fallen into, he kept wandering the world and he kept encountering heroes of old and new regardless of the time that passes.

Even when, by some miracle, the cycle ends, he would still remain stalwart and unabated...

...

...

...

Against the sheer black rock face of a mountain was the development of a mining zone specifically made for the findings of dust in the mountain. Judging from the composition of the mountain, and the landscaping, the general area of the mining machinery could gain a healthy amount of fire-based dust at the very minimum. As experienced huntsmen and huntresses specializing in explosives, as well as workers who know how to excavate very well, were carefully blowing up parts of the mountain, they discovered something extraordinary.

An ancient cavern opened up before them and within it was an ancient tomb from many years past and long forgotten. Reminiscent of a tomb, well-preserved scriptures and statues, as well as the old, fossilized trees not known to modern man and architecture unrecognizable to Remnants history were revealed before the entire mining team. Then, all of them quickly evacuated the premises to get both historians and other forces to get the proper equipment to search the place.

As they all did that, several huntsman and huntresses were enthralled by what was inside of the ancient tomb. A great power dwelled inside the unknown space and it attracted the great warriors and veterans of Remnant like moths to a flame. Ignoring all calls and pleas, some of them delved straight into the dark space while the rest stood outside to watch and guard the entrance until proper reinforcements arrived.

Of the group who went inside, there was a total of seven in total; three huntresses and four huntsmen. Of the three huntresses, one wielded what amounted to a mobile ballista, another carried a multi-functional rifle, and the last one carried a bardiche axe. Of the four huntsmen, one carried an axe that also counted as a flamethrower, the next carried a box filled to the brim with explosives, another carried a larger-than-average claymore and the last carried a ton of dust alongside a rifle-staff.

The seven were completely on guard as they ran through the spacious cavern and ignored any and all architecture. Together, they focused on the power sleeping even deeper within the ancient world hidden from the sun. Unfortunately, they didn't have any faunus huntsmen or huntresses with them, as such they had to rely on the limited-use illumination equipment they had on hand.

As the seven traversed the chasm of the underground, a deep guttural sounds reverberated through the rock of the caves. This sound punctured the hunters down to their bones and rattled even their souls. Despite the cold snapping of their wills, they still continued forward and then began discovering the corpses of knights, warriors, and soldiers long forgotten. Though most of them didn't have time to inspect the corpses, a couple of them whose eye-sights were sharper than their comrades noticed how all of them died from some sort of powerful immolation, and some from a single large wound.

Eventually, the group had reached a place akin to that of an open workshop of sorts. For some odd reason, the place was slightly more illuminated than the entire cavern considering the mysterious candles that are lit and scattered all over the shop. With such a change in atmosphere, all seven of them observed the surrounding area and saw the absurd amounts books, scriptures, failed mechanical and biological experiments, and a certain presence looming over the workshop.

It wasn't until that moment that the sounds of something large approached them got everyone up in arms. All of the hunters reacted and aimed their lights and weapons at the source until they saw something true in its horrendous nature. The figure was what would have happened if one decided to put together Giant-Dad and the notorious pinwheel together as one. Six yellow, and eerie lanterns were sprung out from the back and connected with pole-like extremities. Directly covering the back was a cloak that was slightly bulged and reached down to the ground. And, the most horrendous of all, were the mask of the child and the mother alongside the mask of the father, with eyes all glowing faintly yet fiercely, gazing at the group hunters.

The false giant-dad, as monikered Pinwheel-Dad, an abomination to be hidden forever, performed a mock-hug at the group of seven. Only then were the scriptures written on its longer-than-average zweihander even seen with things inscribed such as **"number #1 dad" "Legend never dies" "¡MLG!"** and, of course, **"** **GIT GUD"**

Such a presence intimidated the hunters, as it was unlike anything they had ever witnessed before and a fear like no other grasped their hearts. It was at that moment that more lights had appeared around them and, from seemingly out of nowhere, clones of Pinwheel-Dad had appeared and did the same exact gesture.

Then, the most will-crushing words were said by all of them, words that the hunters will take to their grave, _**"Well, what is it?"**_ As the Pinwheel-Dads dropped their arms, every hunter broke themselves out of their perpetual cold-feet and finally mustered the courage to fight against the false legends.

Every hunter went up in arms and squared up against all of the Pinwheel-Dads...

...

...

...

On a large field, clouded in lost light, a large grave of weapons of all nations, time-lines, and warriors scattered the ground and raised towards the sky to heaven. A slightly charred and burnt Giant-Dad was sitting down on the ground sleeping while his chaos zweihander was jammed into the ground and was strongly burning and acted as a bonfire with its chaos flames. This bonfire was the only light to illuminate the souls of warriors long forgotten that are resting at the field.

His snore resonated with the cavern and his slumber was left untested until Giant-Dad felt something off. He raised his head, finally out of his countless millennium of rest, the legend stood up and grabbed his chaos zweihander. Once it was pulled from the ground, a legendary fire and light spread across the field of ashes. The sheer amount of energy pent up spread across the entire cavern, reaching even the outside world, and even the most inadequate of beings felt the power resonate within their very soul; Even the Grimm, who are soulless beings, felt some fire resonate with them, and they feared it with every ounce of their existence.

Giant-Dad then walked towards the source of his attention while he mumbled out-loud, **_"The legend returns"_  
**


	2. Chapter 2: The Champions of old

Remember, this was originally a one-shot compilation of characters being badass.

In short, not just Giant Dad is being flung at the fray.

* * *

A belated champion of old, one who was thrust into an age of dark and doomed to failure and a servitude of eternal judgement. A wielder of an old cast-iron halberd with the power to break poise, and is said to never crumble. He who was a warrior fated to eternal service from the very beginning. One donning on ancient armor forged from cast-iron and modeled after a former king. One who was late to the festivities, and was greeted by a shrine without fire, and a bell that would not toll.

Two of him exists, one of the past and one of the present. One a prisoner who had staked everything on a belief, a proclivity most apparent in the greatest of champions. The other was a Judge of ashes; one who was to judge a worthy champion in battle in order to link the flame and is insulted by being the scabbard of a coiled blade.

To the ashes, to the unkindled who encounter their first obstacle on their journey, let it be known that whatever god or goddess, faith or lord, or even their mother, that they shall pray to them great kindness and thanks that Champion Gundyr was not the first obstacle...

...

...

...

In an area conveniently shaped circular, resulting in giving an arena-like feel, the place was trapped in perpetual darkness with the only light being the lit candles surrounding a resting Champion Gundyr in the middle of it all and the scattered candles around the arena. Surrounded by large old ruins, a giant fossilized tree on his right and an impenetrable darkness on the left, the abandoned champion lay dormant...Until a great surge of power called out to him.

The eternal darkness brought on by one who ushered in an age of dark, once thought nigh impossible to penetrate, was a mere fragment in the face of chaotic fire that burned away at the sea of dark. As light slowly broke through the abyss, the champion's slumber was gradually disrupted until the glorious light of the sun, the feeling of the strong winds pushing against him and the old, familiar smell drifting along it had fully engrossed him in the world that he now resides in.

Gundyr slowly lumbered up to full height and watched the view before him. An endless and healthy amalgamation of trees, the tall standing mountains in the distance and the beautiful sun overtaking and blinding him. However, all of these were temporarily meaningless to him. The great champion picked up his giant halberd and he marched to where the power awakened him was.

With the chains that bound him broken, Gundyr had crafted his own pilgrimage to Giant Dad...

...

...

...

A man clad in black iron. In his homeland, he was their champion and one of their strongest warriors, even amongst men who were legendary for their great strength. When the plague of the undead had risen, he and his comrades in arms heard of an old legend from far away lands which spoke, " _Thou who art Undead, art chosen... In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords... When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know..._ _"_

And so, the Knights of Berenike went on a pilgrimage to Lordran. Like countless others, they threw themselves at such dangers like the infamous Sen's fortress in order to proceed to the legendary Anor Londo. However, the endless obstacles that lay within the fortress of a thousand traps impeded them greatly. Not only that, but the final obstacle, the Iron Golem, had slain many heroes before and after them.

Not even the Knights of Balder, led by Knight King Rendal, nor even Big Hat Logan, one of the greatest sorcerers of his time, could break through. All of them, except Tarkus, and a few that may have slipped through by some miracle of the gods. From this, he left his mark for any of those who reached as far as he did and would participate in jolly cooperation to solo the Iron Golem himself if need be; Even if he had perished long ago, his spirit would still live on and help those in need.

By word of the lore-masters, Black Iron Tarkus perished in Anor Londo. It is generally accepted that the legendary warrior fell off of the rafters of the cathedral and died by the deadliest enemy of the land; Gravity. Not even those who have attained the ability to never suffer death by any mortal weapon could defeat the power of gravity.

Others say that he and a scant few fellow Berenike Knights braved the obstacles together, somehow managed to enter the painted world, and went through the entire non-peaceful land of Ariamis, and somehow got separated. Tarkus cut down the zombie dragon in half and managed to escape the painted world. However, his end was met when he succumbed to the poison of the dragon. Thus, when he barely managed to free himself, he crawled into the corner and met his end.

Many stories lie around each and every character; some nonsensical and others far or close to the truth. Nevertheless, time is convoluted in Lordran and many paths exist...

However, if there are two things that are concise, it is that he is better than you at surviving the world of undead and that not even death may stop a hero of old...

...

...

...

Black Iron Tarkus was sitting down amongst the old corpses of fossilized and slain demons. Around him were piles and pillars of even more fossilized and dead demons and the hushed remains of the burnt out lava flows and dormant smoulder lake of lava. Laying dormant behind him was the king of demons, a large and powerful being who had recognized the terrifying might of the old warrior who had brought himself deep into the earth and into hell itself for reasons still unknown to this day.

Not only he was dormant as Black Iron Tarkus was at rest for as long he was and remained quiet and tranquil for what was literally several millennia. In his arms was a greatsword long antiquated and an even bigger ultra greatsword, one a twisted blade resembling black slate and which is too an ancient relic of history. If history were to be believed, it was originally named the Fume ultra greatsword and according to Tarkus he ended its original wielder for impersonating his appearance. Such impersonation caused grave misunderstandings among him and a few important individuals, considering the wielder was a knight-slayer, and he stole the Fume ultra greatsword as the victor's spoils.

The dark shroud of the underground, one that has been left untouched for an uncountable time, was now lit aflame by a mysterious force. A familiar feeling of chaos surged through the vast chasm of the demon's realm as the once charred realm was now alight anew. The fire that dwelled inside the old demon king became renewed as Iron Tarkus was awakened from his eternal slumber.

As the king of demons stared down at his companion, he witnessed a scene thought impossible. The one who had willingly dropped down into the home of demon-kind, he who had challenged and won against every champion of demons, the king himself even, and subjugated hell itself...was rattling in fear. As the demon king lowered his head in worry, a poor attempt to calm the Knight down even slightly, Black Iron Tarkus coughed a couple times and took a deep breath as he used his blade to lift himself on his own two feet.

Tarkus turned around at his companion, and with a resonating voice that pierces even a demon to their core, he said, "Are you prepared to die?" The demon king nodded his head with no regret nor any semblance of fear or falter in loyalty. He then picked up his giant immolated great hammer and he followed Black Iron Tarkus to whatever goal he wishes to seek.

As the two tread the old home of the demons, encountering more dead kin of the demon king, Tarkus muttered under his voice, "Giant Dad..." As the two traversed the underground further, the demon king gradually became more saddened as it appeared that he was truly the last one of his kind left. Noticing this, Black Iron Tarkus, without look back, said, "You aren't the last demon left..." Though the demon king appeared slightly more happy by his companion's words, Tarkus then thought to himself, 'Unfortunately...'

...

...

...

A Royal soldier who has long been on the road and has picked up additional equipment on his journey. He who is masterless and lives strictly for the fight, and he who is fearless to tread the ground of those who had fallen. In his time, where he had served King Vendrick of Drangleic, he was one of the few men who were recognized for their bravery to be supplied with the best armor available to face the great giants. Very few returned from those dreadful battles, however, he was one of those few to return.

Glencour the masterless, or as some may call him Masterless Glencour, was a man of inhuman strength and indomitable will and spirit. Undead as he may be, as long as the call to battle is still burning, he will still remain. Despite being a knight, he wanders around seeking challenges instead of someone worthy enough to pledge his allegiance towards.

Not even the dangers of the frigid wastes could stop him as he managed to obtain the greatest of treasure; a crown that prevents the wearer from hollowing upon death. Not only that, but he was capable of sitting on the throne of want, nay...He gained the right to sit on the throne of want.

As many would dream a world of what they see fit, which is the birth of a new kingdom in the world of darkness, Masterless Glencour did not require such a thing.

What he wanted was a challenge. One that would befit him as a warrior as mighty as him...

...

...

...

He lay motionless for time immemorial. Inside a sealed stone chamber, waiting in darkness while he sat down on the throne. Glencour's zweihander lay at his side and hungered for the one to prove its master's worth. Until then, the grave remained docile, quiet, and uneventful even as time proved to break down the land around him in a continuous cycle. It hasn't changed since then, until a ferocious strength unlike anything the Knight has ever experienced before broke him out of his shell.

The masterless knight, with great vigor, stood from his throne and grabbed his blade even in nigh darkness. He slowly sauntered over to the entrance where he proceeded to forcibly open the stone doors apart. With his sheer strength, the knight managed to slowly accomplish the feat. As the doors inched apart with each passing moment, bright light from the outside began to wash into the chamber and the ancient air inside began to blow the timeless debris inside to a new world while the sands from outside entered the old chamber.

Once the knight breached opened the doors, he was introduced to a scene foreign to him.

The gentle rows of waves stretch across the clear ocean as far as the eye could see. As he walked out, his boots sank into the hot sand and the knight was beat down by the blazing sun's rays. When the knight took his bearings, he noticed the overgrown foliage behind him; that which has not been touched by man, if at all.

The most puzzling of all was how in the name of Vendrick did the throne of want end up on the coast, not only that, but where did everything else go? However, Glencour was not the type to dwell on such trivial matters. It was at that point that he had realized that he had to cross the ocean to gain his prize.

Coming to this realization, the masterless knight began to chuckle a bit before he gradually bellowing out in a mighty guffaw, "How appropriate! It would have been too easy if my wish was granted in a simple manner" He laughed to himself before he started to simmer down and he remembered the old war days when he had fought against the giants that crossed the sea and did battle with Kingdom of Drangleic.

Now, he shall do the same.

The man silently stared at the ocean's horizon and remained there for a little while as the sun brushes past the sky and the once clear blue sky started to get clouded. It was at that point that the Knight felt the familiar sense of overwhelming bloodlust, that which had surpassed that of an average beast.

Two-handing his zweihander, Glencour turned around and from the shades of the foliage he could see the hate-filled red-eyes of his foes and from the numbers it seemed like it might take a bit of time and effort to go through them.

Glencour clenched his teeth and cracked a vicious smile under his helmet, "I am not sure what you beasts are..." He raised his arms in a mocking-hug gesture and then proceeded to pound his chest "But bring it on!" He fiercely handled his zweihander and went on the offensive "Entertain me!" The bloodlust of the Grimm, the beasts of darkness that inhabit the world, went down slightly as they were surprised to see such blood-knight such as Glencour. Nevertheless, the group of Grimm charged at the warrior in response, in great numbers as well.

And it was on that day that the creatures of Grimm had made a grave mistake...

...

...

...

A warrior hailing from a land from the east. One who chose to serve a little-known and unestablished lord and help him become a Great King of Iron. One who was the sole trainer of a legion of knight who would soon become legendary and bear the name of their master for times to come. This man is known as Sir Alonne, a man of honor and finesse, yet seemingly unmatched skill with a blade and brutal efficiency in combat.

Though the wandering swordsman was a man of great character, and even being the loyal right hand man to his king, the Iron King himself was not as great as the eastern warrior.

After establishing himself, the Iron King descended into absolute depravity. Once, the King could have unraveled the greater mysteries with the aid of his great soul, but he was led astray by his enormous fortune, becoming nothing more than a vulgar hedonist.

At the end of the very peak of his sire's rule, Sir Alonne disappeared. He was said to have deserted his liege after bearing witness to his descent into depravity, setting out again in search of lands yet unknown. However, the loyalty of the Alonne Knight was the stuff of legends. These men, trained by Sir Alonne were renowned for their loyalty, and yet their leader deserted his liege.

Thus, as time passes, the true history may never be known as to what truly happened...

However, if there is one thing that is absolute, it is that Sir Alonne's blade is that which had gained sentience and a life of its own; most likely from being bathed in the blood of countless slain warriors...

...

...

...

The blade of Sir Alonne, a weapon of legendary standing, remained untouched after countless ages and cycles had passed. From atop of Brume Tower, it had been ignorant of the changes of the world for an innumerable amount of time due to the sealed chamber he and the armor of his master were locked away in. What he did know was that no man had yet step forth into the Brume Tower since that one day. It yearned for the blood spilt from glorious battle. It yearned to feel its edge make contact with another blade, to feel the flesh of beast or man and cleave through the bone and meat of them all. It wouldn't even mind dulling its edge against something if it meant an actual activity related to being swung at something for the sheer sake of it.

But alas, time is cruel and no one came for him. It missed his last master, though the eastern warrior managed to be powerful enough to sport the blade and not be overcome with its bloodlust, the blade respected the warrior for being strong enough to overcome sheer bloodlust with overwhelming honor and absurd willpower. At the very least, he at least slew enemies down and he knew how to do it well. And thus, the blade enjoyed the company of his last wielder as he had received the honor of being used by such a fearsome and competent warrior.

As the blade reminisced in the old wars and battles he was used in, a terrifying power surged through the Brume tower. The old bloodlust that shambled over the years was now reignited with a fire that's sole purpose is to duel the being who is capable of such a feat. Unfortunately, because he was a mere bloodthirsty sword, he couldn't exactly do anything. Thus, the blade screamed out in frustration and with all of its might that had festered for over the countless years he lay motionless and bored.

The sword's yearning, with the power of the chaotic power that made him alive again, had called out beyond the fabric of the timeline he had resided in. After yelling out senselessly for a good while, the blade was about to break into metaphorical tears until a light broke the darkness. The impossible had come into fruition as a glyph appeared before the blade. The spirit of a warrior long antiquated by time was reviving and being summoned right before the sword's sights. If it could be possible, the blade could've shed tears of joy, but instead it cried out in joy when the legendary Eastern Warrior touched the cold wrappings of its hilt and lifted it in the air.

The Eastern Warrior stared at the ancient blade and swung it for the first time in forever. The amount of ecstasy felt at that moment was surreal and beautiful as Sir Alonne donned on his old armor, put his blade to the test and the two began to walk out of Brume tower. Once outside, the two were met with the feat of the shattered moon up in the sky in the dead of night. Despite the darkness, it was clear that the sky was clouded by thick and plumed ashen clouds. The ground itself was molten and spewing great swathes of fire and geysers of flesh-tearing steam at every opportunity.

Due to the brilliance of the fire reflecting off of the darkness, the scene was magnificently tragic.

Tall towers, and great spires of both ashen stone and black iron perforated the ground. The glowing lava rivers that flowed along the lifeless earth was like ichor and the strong winds that blew through the tower was unbearably blistering and the air hard to breath from the ashes that rode the air. Sir Alonne looked towards the horizon, and then he looked to the remains of where he served his lord.

The Samurai, before traversing towards his goal, kneeled down, set his sword to the side, placed his hands to together and near his forehead, then prayed. He silently spoke his final farewells to the Old Iron King and the kingdom that fell before him.

Sir Alonne picked up his trusted blade and the two moved on to their Journey out west...

...

...

...

A king, and a hero of the north. His origins are said to trace back to the kingdom of Forossa, where it was home to the lion knights; a once-mighty order of warriors known for their heavy armor and nimble two-handed swordplay techniques. Not only that, but the lion knights were devoted to Faraam, the god of war and their armor was blessed by the god himself. Of this, in Forossa, this hero served as a high ranking knight.

In his time as a ruler, he would be described as a compassionate and strong leader, always the first to swing his sword in times of need for the good of his people or for his homeland. Even when Alsanna, a lost child of Dark, one who was a fragment of Manus, father of the abyss and the literal embodiment of darkness, sought to sustain herself using the powerful king, he granted her protection and comfort despite possibly knowing her true intentions

Thus, the man successfully romanced a child of dark, redeemed her with his love and and ended up happily married to her. Also, in his spare time, he domesticated giant ice tigers, seven of them to be precise.

At an unknown point, an ancient chaos was discovered deep below the land. It had been said that the ancient chaos had been on par or even surpassed the fragment of Manus. Legend holds that the King used his magnificent soul to build the Kingdom of Eleum Loyce and contain the spread of Chaos. A grand cathedral was built in an attempt to appease the raging flame, and the man himself built his own throne at the mouth of the entrance to the old chaos in order to be the first line of defense. As a precaution, various knights and golems were posted throughout the Garrison Ward to lead the advance on the swollen flame on his orders.

Eventually, the King sensed the degradation of his soul and left Eleum Loyce without a word, leaving everything to Alsanna. The man was so beloved by his people that many knights followed him down into the Old Chaos until they all were corrupted by the flames. At some point after the King's departure, the ivory gates of the city were flung open, and the land grew cold and lifeless...

It wasn't until an unnamed hero went into the frigid kingdom and, with the pleas of the Alsanna to put the king at rest, had managed to slain the once-great king and his legion of charred Loyce knights with assistance from the last remaining Loyce knights in one epic battle.

Though much time has passed since then, as the kingdom became buried in frost and snow, and history is forgotten. Even a man as great as he had his name forgotten, however, his title still stood the test of time...The Ivory King...The King who did not fall to darkness, but to fire, which even the Dark fears...

...

...

...

Abandoned by time itself, the Kingdom that once contained the old chaos was no more. Just a cold hollowed husk of its former glory, the architecture had succumbed to the test of the blizzards and cold that plagued it. Thus, the kingdom was buried down to the core with even the underground of the old chaos being reduced to a frozen shell. However, that did not mean the fire would be completely diminished.

The chaos flames of Giant Dad's zweihander had reached even the most desolate of lands as the once frozen-over underground began to melt down. Fire started to grow in innumerable quantities, the ancient roots of the past began to breathe life and the magma from the underground began to seep into the large chamber.

The chaos fire that surged life into the veins of the underground was not anything merely like the old-chaos. It surpassed it to ungodly proportions. By some miracle of the gods, and by the lasting soul of the old Ivory King, a process thought impossible began to occur.

Two spires rose from the flowing lava down below, the ones that summoned the burnt Ivory King against the unnamed hero who defeated him. A clash of immense power and flame began to transpire within the open gate. The scorching flames, the burning of souls, and the sheer intensity of the chaos had been so potent that the perpetual blizzard that plagued Eleum Loyce began to disperse. The snow and nigh-impenetrable ice that developed over the many years had begun to become melted down.

And thus, a large cascade of water began to flood the kingdom and then created rivers that flowed out of the walls and into the frozen wasteland.

As the process continued, a figure of a tall and mighty warrior began to walk out of the portal. Donned in his full white armor, that which had been cleansed of the charred fire that burned him and his Loyce knights, and his flowing cape that marked the symbol of his kingdom waved behind him as the fires of the portal began to follow him and tread with him at his every step.

In his hands was his famous ultra greatsword, that which had been gifted the king the power to protect his people.

As he fully walked out of the portal and into the middle of the arena, the Ivory King looked around and saw that none of his knights were there with him. Albeit melancholic for the loss of his knights' lives, he could still feel the souls of all of them within himself.

The Ivory King then looked up at the chamber's ceiling and kneeled down to the ground with his ultra greatsword the only thing holding him up. The great hero shed tears of happiness as he said aloud, "Alsanna...I've returned home..."

...

...

...

Again and again, heroes of old began to rise from their slumber. Some obscure, and others great heroes of yore.

All of this because the great power of Giant Dad had given them life. The impossible had been achieved, new purposes and life had been given, and the gears of fate are changing for the world of Remnant.

But to Giant Dad, it was all insignificant.

In the name of a famous lore-seeker, by his words, he states, _"The Legend never dies. These are the words of the Champions, ancient warriors whose purpose was to destroy the filthy casuls that roamed Lordran. They worship no god, except for their eternal master and creator, OnlyAfro. These warriors were known for their tremendous skill, far from the petty peasants that plagued the land before their existence. With the help of skill and knowledge (and a Chaos Zweihander +5), the Legends became immortal."_

And thus, the creation of more heroes means the more _**"Filthy Casuls"**_ that need to be destroyed...

...

...

...

As Giant Dad tread the underground, he approached the sounds of battle. Eventually, once he made it there, he witnessed a horrendous sight from atop the high elevated position he stood. He had not only seen the abominations that were the false legends that took his appearance in stride and then malformed it into a horrifying being, but also the **casuls** that seem to have upgraded dexterity to enormous extents.

The most surprising part was the fact that the majority of the hunters were fighting at a higher capacity than expected, however, they began to slow down and sustained continuous damage and the false legends didn't seem to be letting up on their onslaught.

From where he stood, Giant Dad jumped down from above and performed a plunging attack. Once his blade struck the ancient stone, not only was it fractured from the sheer strength behind it, but the fires of the chaos zweihander burned brighter than ever _**"Initiate phase one..."**_ The baritone rumbled across the battle zone. Every huntsman and huntress, even the pinwheel-dads, had stopped themselves in their fight to the death. As Giant Dad did a mocking-hug gesture, he bellowed out _**"Powering up the Sonorous Cannon"**_ Thinking it was an actual cannon attack, all of the hunters ran for cover while carrying their injured far away from the strike zone. Thankfully ignoring their presence, the pinwheel-dads focused all of their power upon Giant Dad and performed the mocking-hug gesture in response

 _ **"Well, what is it?"**_ All of the false legends said at the same time.

As all of the legends, false or not, put down their arms, Giant Dad sounded out with a fearsome rumble, _**"Fire"**_ Giant Dad hopped backward and proceeded to charge at the group of false legends while the other group imitated their original's movements. As all of them swung their Chaos Zweihanders in a running over-head strike, it was punctuated with a garbled shout that would forever mark themselves in the minds of the hunters, _**"Rhuaghh!"**_...

...

...

...

Outside of the ancient cavern's entrance, the hunters stationed outside to guard it were tempted further and further to enter the unknown underground. With how many sounds echoed out of it, and the power that had resonated outward from it, they were half worried about the exploration team and half curious on the source of the ancient strength.

As the lookouts saw the reinforcements arriving in the transport airships, the earth started to violently rumble. Giant industrial equipment started to tip over and all of the workers started to enact protocol for earthquake events. As all of the hunters were trying to gain their balance, they all felt an immense force rushing over in their direction. Before they could prepare accordingly, a shock-wave of astronomical proportions washed through the entire area.

Every single living being was blown back, debris kicked up into the air like a dust-storm, entire trees were relieved of all of their foliage, and the airships that arrived received turbulence like a category 5 hurricane just struck them in an instant. Some of the airships even accidentally collided with each other or had to make an emergency landing.

The last thing anyone had saw from the black mountain was the eruptions of chaotic fire coming from the open fissures of the mountain and the mouth of the cavern appearing to be that unlike the gate to hell itself.

At that very moment, hunters and regular people alike had thought they had opened Pandora's box.

* * *

Reasoning for each one + Estimated location:

 **Champion Gundyr: ** He is what happens when you put a fighting character in an RPG...Or as this one youtube comment put it:

"He lives up to the name Champion fucker Sweet Chin Music and Five knuckle shuffle you"

and this one:

"Gundyr is smough going on a diet, he even took the time to become a Martial artist"

And this one:

"Fromsoft: please Gundyr, go easy on the tutorial or you will scare new players too soon

Gundyr: what about the second encounter?

Fromsoft: ah you can fuck them as much as you like."

And the classic:

"Me on Iudex Gundyr: Lol look at this fag8. He doesn't even stand a chance.

Champion Gundyr on our later encounter: Lol look at this fag8. He doesn't even stand a chance."

Oh, and just because:

"The Champion gave me a "if Smough was a kung-fu master" vibe with all those damn mid-air kick combos."

And my favorite:

"Ludex Gundyr: Tutorial boss to test your strength

Champion Gundyr: WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MARTIAL ARTS GOD WHO WILL PUT HIS FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS IT WILL COME OUT THE OTHER SIDE MAY THE GODS HAVE MERCY UPON YOUR SOUL"

And the obligatory Soviet Russia joke:

"Why does he have a T-Rex on his back?"

"he's so manly he doesn't ride a trex the trex rides him ._."

 **Location of Champion Gundyr:** Lower sector land area between Vacuo and Vale, at the southern end of the world.

 **Black Iron Tarkus:** He is one of the other memeified Dark Souls characters, aside from Solaire, and his version basically turned him into the Chuck Norris of Dark Souls memes.

 **Location of Black Iron Tarkus:** Hell

 **Masterless Glencour:** Looks cool, has a cool name, and one of my favorite NPC summons in Dark Souls 2...Oh, and he fights very similarly to Black Iron Tarkus...and he wields a Zweihander.

You know where this is going

 **Location of Masterless Glencour:** On the eastern coast of the landmass that is between Vacuo and Vale. Separated by the ocean and independent from other places.

 **Sir Alonne:** Because washing pole

 **Location of Sir Alonne:** South-East of mistral, where there is a landmass that is both volcanic and desert.

 **The Burnt Ivory King:** His badassery is so legendary that I'm surprised that the daughter of manus didn't die from how big his balls were and how overwhelming his testosterone and manliness were.

 **Location of the Burnt Ivory King:** The northern-most point of the world, to the west from Atlas.


End file.
